


i'd give you my lungs so you could breathe

by emavee



Series: Whumptober 2020 [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Buried Alive, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is Batman, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26809156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emavee/pseuds/emavee
Summary: Dick does the only thing he can think to do: he holds his little brother in his arms and wishes this wasn’t the end.Whumptober Day 4: buried alive
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Series: Whumptober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948276
Comments: 8
Kudos: 233





	i'd give you my lungs so you could breathe

**Author's Note:**

> warning for child endangerment and near-death experience

He’s tempted to turn off the cowl’s night vision capabilities. Every time he catches a glimpse of Damian’s pale, frightened face, he wants to break down in tears. 

Damian is a strong kid, just about the bravest and brashest that Dick has ever met. At first, he could tell that Damian was trying his best to act unbothered, but the air is getting thinner, the darkness more oppressive, and Damian’s hands have started shaking. 

“Come here,” Dick says, voice soft and barely there, terrified of using up what little air they must have left, but the crate they’re trapped in is so painfully silent that he might as well be screaming.

Damian is hunched in the opposite corner, knees hugged tightly to his chest as he tries to take up as little room as possible. He doesn’t even bother to glare at Dick, even though he must know that Dick can still see him. “I am fine, Grayson. You do not need to coddle me.”

It would be a lot more convincing if he didn’t sound moments away from breaking down in tears. 

Dick doesn’t want to spend his last moments listening to his baby brother cry. He doesn’t want Damian to cry. He never, ever wants Damian to cry. 

Damian, who had his whole life ahead of him, who was only ten years old and had barely even started to have a childhood. Damian, Dick’s little Robin who he’s failed so horribly. 

“I know, kiddo,” he whispers. Damian won’t let go of his pride, even now, and Dick knows it. But he has a few tricks up his own sleeve. “But I’m starting to get a little worried—”  _ scared, horrified, terrified _ “—and I’d feel better if you were over here with me.”

Damian hesitates, shifting. If Dick didn’t know better, he’d think Damian was getting ready to launch himself into his Batman’s arms. Instead he just frowns at the floor, body uncoiling just slightly. “You require my assistance?”

“You bet.”

He nods once, sharp and jerky, before sucking in a shaky breath. “Then it is my duty as Robin to comfort you.”

Damian scrambles across the dusty floor and tucks himself immediately against Dick’s side. Dick knows from personal experience that the Batman armor is harsh and uncomfortable to snuggle up to, but he does his best to wrap his arms around Damian and hold him close, trying to provide what little comfort he can. Damian is shaking, burying closer to Dick than he ever has before. 

“I’m sorry,” Damian suddenly blurts out, voice cracking and muffled against Dick’s chest.

Dick startles, arms involuntarily tightening around his little brother. Uncharacteristically, Damian doesn’t protest, just presses closer, lifting his head to bury his nose into Dick’s neck. Dick really wishes it hadn’t taken getting buried alive for Dami to get cuddly. 

“What could you possibly be sorry for, baby bat?”

Damian shakes his head. “It’s Robin’s job to protect Batman. I failed. I failed you, and now you’re going to die.”

“ _ No, _ ” Dick snaps immediately, much harsher than he intended. “No. You have no reason to apologize. Nothing at all. If anything, this is my fault.  _ I’m _ supposed to protect  _ you, _ Dami.”

“It was not your fault,” he insists immediately.

_ It is, _ but he doesn’t want to waste precious air arguing about it, doesn’t want to spend what is probably their last few moments fighting. “Then it’s not your fault either.” He squeezes tighter, dropping a kiss to the top of Damian’s head. Damian stiffens in surprise but doesn’t pull away. “You’re such a good kid, Dami. An amazing Robin.”

“I am the best Robin,” Damian mumbles. “ _ We _ are the best.”

Dick hums, carding his fingers through Damian’s hair. Even though he has so much he wants to say to Damian, he can’t. They should keep their talking to a minimum to preserve oxygen.

Even though Dick is pretty sure no one is coming to rescue them.

“Are we going to die?” Damian asks, his voice so small, sounding for once well and truly ten-years-old.

Dick wants to say no. He wants to reassure his kid that everything is going to turn out fine. But he can’t. Dick’s optimism is failing him; he can’t see a way out of this. He doesn’t know if the painfully tight feeling in his chest is hopelessness or the beginnings of oxygen deprivation. Probably both.

Damian apparently takes his silence for the answer it is. “If we are going to die,” he whispers, “then I feel that I should tell you…” He trails off, looking uncertain.

“What is it, Dames? You know you can tell me anything.”

Damian nods. “You have been… a good mentor, Richard. I know I was not easy to put up with in the beginning.”

“But you were  _ worth it, _ ” Dick swears. If Damian knows anything, he needs to know that. “I am so, so proud of you, kiddo. And I know your dad would be too.”

Damian says nothing, just presses closer. Dick tries very hard to ignore the fact that Damian’s cheeks are damp against his neck.

* * *

Damian is scared. Damian is scared and Dick wishes he could take it all away from him but he’s scared too. Terrified, down to his core.

Breathing is starting to get incredibly painful, and Damian sounds terrible, breaths labored and wheezing. 

“Dami,” he says. Talking is agony. He forces the words out anyway. “Dami, you need to breathe.”

“Huh?” He doesn’t like how drowsy Damian sounds. It sends a freezing spike of panic through his stomach.

“Here.” Dick gently maneuvers his little brother from where his face has been resting against his collarbone, helping him lay down and cradling his head in his lap, maneuvering them just so to try and ease Damian’s breathing just a little.

It doesn’t do too much—it’s not as if freeing up Damian’s airways is going to magically generate more fresh oxygen—and there’s an odd rattling quality to his breathing. Not a good sign at all.

Dick runs his fingers through Damian’s hair and stares at the ceiling in an effort not to cry.

* * *

He’s failed his Robin.

It hits him hard, like a bullet straight to the chest. Damian is so  _ good _ at his core, beneath everything Talia and Ra’s and the struggle to survive growing up in the League of Assassins. He’s a  _ good kid.  _ A really, really good kid. He deserves so much more time to realize that for himself.

Dick can’t quite get enough air in to properly sob, but some mockery of one tears its way out of him anyway. 

“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much, Damian.”  _ And I am so, so sorry. _

“I—” Damian sucks in a rattling breath. “I love you too.” His voice is so soft that Dick barely hears it.

Damian has never said that before. It hurts to hear him say it now, when it may very well be his last words. 

It takes nearly every ounce of energy he has left, but Dick manages to lean over and press a desperate kiss to his baby brother’s forehead. Damian doesn’t react, doesn’t even twitch.

“D’mi?” he rasps, sitting up. It earns him no response, and when he gently shakes his shoulder, Damian doesn’t so much as twitch. 

Arms shaking with effort, he tears off the cowl, plunging himself into pitch darkness. He doesn’t want to watch Damian die. He can’t do it, can’t handle it. The tears fall cold on his cheeks. 

Now in the dark, it’s nearly impossible to realize that his eyes have slid closed again, and this time he can’t seem to get them to open back up. He’s nearing the end, and he knows it. His little brother’s name—not the worst last words he could have. He only wishes Dami wasn’t dying too. He would give  _ anything _ to magically deposit Damian up on the ground above them, would do  _ anything _ if it meant his little brother would survive this. 

Everything hurts—his chest is in agony, and the crushing realization that Damian will die, is possibly already dead (he’s too scared to check), is even worse. When oblivion comes to take him, it’s so easy to slip away.

* * *

Dick wakes up confused, and all he can think is that he wants Bruce. He doesn’t know where he is, but he really wants his dad. 

Then reality comes sliding back and suddenly the only thing he wants is to know if Damian is okay.

“Dami?” he gasps, looking around frantically. There’s an oxygen mask on his face, hindering his semi-panicked searching. He can’t find Damian and for a moment he’s so, so sure that his little Robin is dead.

“Dick! Hey, calm down.” 

Tim’s face appears in his line of sight, leaning over him. His hair has gotten so long since the last time Dick saw him and he doesn’t like the size of those bags under his eyes one bit. Mostly, though, he’s just confused by the fact that Tim is even here. He hasn’t seen Tim in months, and their last encounter didn’t exactly go well… 

“Timmy?”

Tim’s smile is awkward and a bit pained, but he looks relieved, and has that same tired hunch to his shoulders that characterizes someone sitting vigil at the bedside of someone they care about. 

“Hey, Dick.” Tim settles back in his seat, dragging the chair closer to the cot. 

“Damian?”

Tim nods to Dick’s other side and, more carefully this time, Dick is able to tilt his head to get a clearer view of his baby brother.

He’s asleep on his own cot, pale and a bit gray, his lips still tinged slightly blue, but the heart monitor attached to his finger is beeping steadily. A mop of blonde hair that he can only assume is Steph is flopped over onto the mattress at his side. Her fingers are slack as she holds Damian’s hand on his stomach, his own fingers curled loosely around hers.

“How’d you find us?” he asks, never taking his eyes off the steady rise and fall of Damian’s chest.

“You missed a check in with Babs. She called Steph and well,” he can hear Tim shift, “I happened to be in the area.”

Tearing his gaze away from Damian, Dick turns back to his other little brother. “Thank you.”

Tim looks uncomfortable, but he nods. “Well, I wasn’t going to let you guys die.”

“I really thought we were going to,” Dick muses softly. “I’ve missed you, Tim.”

Tim stares at his lap. “I miss you too, Dick.” He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “I can’t stay for long—just wanted to make sure you were okay—but Alfred will be back soon. And I think Steph is going to hang around for a little while.”

“Damian’s okay though, right? He’s going to be okay?” 

Something shutters in Tim’s expression before his face goes carefully blank. Dick resists the urge to sigh. Honestly, he doesn’t have the energy right now to try and have  _ this  _ conversation with Tim again. He loves both his little brothers, deeply and the exact same amount, but he’d thought Damian was dead. He thought Damian was dead, cradled in his lap and so, so afraid. 

Dick wants to hold his safe, living, breathing little brother so badly it aches, and as horrible as it is, he doesn’t think he can deal with anything other than that.

“Alfie says he’s gonna be fine. You too.”

“Can I—” He doesn’t quite know how to vocalize what he’s asking for, but somehow Tim seems to understand. Those years of closeness haven’t been completely erased.

Tim frowns, glancing over Damian’s still form. “You both need to stay in bed.”

“Please, Tim?”

With a sigh, Tim rises from his seat and unlocks the wheels on the bottom of Dick’s cot so he can push him closer to Damian. As soon as he’s close enough, Dick’s hand shoots out to wrap around Damian’s wrist. Even though he can hear the beating of his heart through the monitor, it’s so  _ different  _ feeling it there for himself. The thrum of Damian’s heart is so much stronger than before, the most beautiful thing Dick has felt in a while.

Satisfied, his hand slides down from Damian’s wrist to curl around his hand. It’s so small in his, but there’s a warmth there. He’s alive. They’re both alive.

“Timmy,” Dick murmurs, tearing his gaze away from Damian for just a moment. “ _ Thank you. _ ”

Tim still looks so uncomfortable, but he nods anyway. “Try to stop almost dying while I’m not here, alright?”

He wants to tell Tim that he doesn’t have to go, wants to beg him to stay here in Gotham. But he knows it won’t get them anywhere. Tim is too caught up in this mission, one that Dick just can’t believe in. They’re just not in the same place anymore.

“I’ll do my best.” He smiles, holding Tim’s gaze until he smiles weakly back. 

“Get some rest, Dick.”

Rest. That sounds good. That sounds really, really good. He squeezes Damian’s hand tighter and revels in the fact that they’re both alive.


End file.
